


Baby, You Should Stick Around

by thedevilyousay



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Demon Derek Hale, F/M, Incubus Stiles, M/M, Magic, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 06:45:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1888899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilyousay/pseuds/thedevilyousay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Stiles is an Incubus who can change his appearance at will and Derek is his Demon boss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby, You Should Stick Around

**Author's Note:**

> this is ridiculous, fair warning. the rules of the universe are unclear and there are probably some gaping plot holes but whatever. also, it gets a little fluffy at the end. i'm not sure it's fluffy enough to be classified as fluff, but there is definitely some fluff. also, i don't usually think of Stiles as so rambly but he rambles a lot in this for some reason. i dunno, dude. 
> 
> tw for mild violence/gore and attempted but thwarted date rape. minor character death also. 
> 
>  
> 
> title from ms mr - dark doo wop which talks about the world burning and made me go hey, you know what's cool? demon boyfriends. sterek as demons boyfriends. yes, good.

Derek surveys the bustling club with slow, appreciative eyes, happy the turn out is more than he expected. Humans are everywhere, grinding and sweating on the dance floor and lined up out the door still waiting to get in. The music is a steady pounding beat and the whole area is lit with black lights, the body paint haphazardly smeared over mostly naked bodies creating a trippy visual as they move. He’s working the bar as back up for Scott, the kid unable to handle the amount of bodies pouring in demanding drinks at such a steady rate. It would have been too much for anyone. Derek absently makes a mental note to be sure they refill their stocks before they throw their next bash. 

Out of the corner of his eye and at the edge of the bar, he sees a small redhead shove her way in between a couple drunkenly making out. Her hair is gathered in an attractive ponytail high on her head and her doll like features with big eyes and a cute, pointed chin are deceptively adorable. Deceptive, because her expression is far from adorable and much more like a queen forced off her throne and into the plebian masses. A tall, model pretty man with killer cheekbones is pushed against her back, glaring around the party like he’s bored and unbothered, yet his grip is noticeably tight on the girl’s waist. 

“Two shots!” her voice, much deeper than he would have assumed, rings out authoritatively over the loud music. Derek grabs a tall bottle of vodka and two glasses and heads to the end of the bar, setting them down and filling them quickly. She tips one and then the other back, a large predatory smile breaking over her face as she finishes them. 

“Busy night?” Derek inquires, assuming he won’t have to raise his voice too much for her to hear him. Her eyes sparkle back at him, the man still pressing at her back momentarily forgotten.

“How did you know!? You always know. I thought this one was so good, too. Not my style at all. Is it the body paint? The top? I knew I should have gone with something more conservative.” Derek hadn’t been entirely sure, actually, but the heavy spew of words confirms his original suspicions. He looks over the girls small, tight body, a neon pink band the only thing covering her chest and high waisted white shorts barely covering her ass and agrees Stiles should have maybe been a little more conservative, if not so obvious. Still, it’s his job to be noticed and his chosen skin for the night is extremely attractive.

“It’s the aura of bullshit and bad jokes still coming off of you in waves. It’s hard to miss.” This makes Stiles’ skin light up in delight, the twist of lips familiar despite the foreign face. Derek does his best to avert his eyes and pours a beer for a man newly sat farther down the bar, sending it sliding gracefully over the shiny, wet wood until it hits the man’s waiting hand. The music and lights have paused only to come back with a loud drop and more flashing. 

“Lydia? Are you coming with me?” Derek hears the man clinging to Stiles speak up, his voice whiny and impatient, the type of voice that grates on his nerves. Derek never really likes anyone Stiles picks out, the Incubus having an impossibly large variety of taste as most do, and tonight is no different. However, he always gets the job done, Derek reminds himself. Stiles always returns before dawn filled to the brim with someone’s evil life force, the soft glow always sickly beautiful before Derek drains it out to send below. As far as Incubus’ goes, Stiles is one of the best in the business and has been for the last three years under Derek’s command. They had developed a mostly amicable partnership very early on much to everyone’s surprise. Derek is unwillingly to examine the fondness he feels for the lower level demon and chalks it up to his superior work ethic. 

“Just one minute, darling.” Lydia/Stiles eyes are locked with Derek’s as he squeezes the man’s hand, sliding it up his skin’s abdomen, over a breast and to her pretty, lush mouth, taking a finger in and sucking before pulling it out with a pop. The man releases a small gasp behind her. Derek rolls his eyes in response, Stiles’ bad attempts at flirting with him old news. It was a ritual they had started almost a year into their dealings. Stiles would pick up someone, bring them to the club, and before he would leave with them he would offer Derek his skin for the night first, assured that at some point he would be able to seduce his upper level demon boss. It would be a lie to say Derek hadn’t considered it, Stiles by far the highlight to most of his nights, but the same power that made the Incubus so attractive to most was the same one that held Derek back. It was an Incubus after all that had enticed him to fall in the first place. 

“Don’t roll your eyes, big guy. One night, it’s going to happen. You just wait. No one can resist me forever.” He takes the rejection easily, winking as he pulls his catch of the day towards one of the exits. Derek tries not to appreciate the swing of the skin’s hips before they disappear into the dark street outside. 

***

Most normal nights, Derek chooses to sit in the VIP section of the club, his long legs thrown haphazardly over the arm of the chair as he lounges and watches. Stiles likes to make throne jokes, but the position suits Derek just fine, his ability to survey the club from his higher perch always a bonus in his mind. Currently, he’s watching a tall, angelic faced male drag a reluctant Scott on to the dance floor. Scott is shooting worried glances Derek’s way but Derek nods and watches most of the tension go out of the Hellhound, relieved to not be in trouble for leaving his position. It’s by no means a slow night, but Derek is sure Erica can handle the bar solo for a little while. Besides, he’s curious to see what will happen. 

A few seconds later, the two are standing in front of him, Scott looking sheepish.

“Hi! I’m Isaac. Come dance with us?” The man is reaching out to Derek, his slight British accent a compliment to the rest of his appearance. The curls are a nice touch too, really. 

Derek’s grin is sharp. “Stiles! I hope you aren’t planning to eat my hound. Not unless you want to do his job and yours from now on.” This makes the Isaac skin glower attractively, his hand retracting to his side. Scott looks between them confused until it hits him he’s been fooled, again. 

“Stiles! Dammit! I thought you were real and actually attracted to me! I was going to get your number and everything.” Scott hits Isaac on the shoulder gently, his face trying for angry but settling some where at frustrated amusement. Isaac grins at him, his hand going to his heart. 

“Scott, I am attracted to you! I’m more attracted to you than any one in the whole wide world. I go home at night and write sonnets about your crooked jaw and that snuffling thing you do when we hug. Truly, my heart beats only for you. Also, you can definitely have my number again, no problem.” This makes Scott hit him a second time, but while laughing. Puppies hold better grudges than Scott. Isaac turns back to Derek.

“So not even one dance, huh? I thought for sure this would be your type, dude. Aren’t you in to curls?” Derek scowls, his mild surprise that Stiles would have figured out such a thing held away from his face. “You shouldn’t be worried about my type, Stiles, just whoever’s your taking home tonight. You know I’ll fire you, literally, if you don’t deliver.“ The threat is issued as a serious growl but they both know it’s empty. Stiles has never not delivered, sometimes even bringing in more than his fair share, a credit Derek would be willing to give him if he ever needed it. The Incubus rarely takes a night off. 

Stiles’ answering sigh is one of loud dejection as he grabs Scott again and pulls him back onto the dance floor. When Derek looks back a few minutes later, he’s doing his best to get Scott to actually dance, his hands pulling at the other man’s hips in a slow grind. Scott is smiling blindingly so now, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks as he lets his friend direct his movements. Another man takes the opportunity to move up behind Isaac and he quickly becomes the center of a rather attractive sandwich.

No matter what skin he chooses to shroud himself in, Stiles always has an infectious air about him, a live wire energy that is usually, honestly, how Derek manages to identify him. He feels it under his skin sometimes, somewhere behind his eyes and wonders if he would taste like it, if Derek’s tongue on his neck would illicit sparks. He gets lost in this thought before Stiles is wiggling his eyebrows in what Derek assumes is supposed to be a come hither manner, obviously enjoying Derek’s rapt attention. Derek’s mouth has gone a little dry at the smoothness of his body moving in time to the music, but drags his eyes away anyway, unwilling to give the man anymore satisfaction. He shouldn’t be staring. He doesn’t know how Stiles can even see him, the light in the club low enough that it shouldn’t be obvious. But a lot of things are obvious about Derek to Stiles that shouldn’t be, if he really thinks about it. 

Scott finally pulls himself away to head back to the bar, leaving the man who had come up behind Isaac/Stiles alone with him. Isaac has his full attention on the man now and Derek scolds himself for the flare of jealousy he feels, reminding himself that Stiles is finally doing his job. When Derek finally gets up to start closing down for the night, his eyes linger on the man mouthing at Isaac’s jaw, his hands dragging down his back and into the edge of his pants, Isaac whispering into his ear. Stiles, in the Isaac skin, winks at him as he passes. 

***

Derek is in his office when one of the bouncers comes rushing in to tell him about a fight on the floor. He sighs, long suffering, before making his way out of the room and out into the main part of the building. The music has momentarily stopped and the lights aren’t flickering, even the crowd having stilled as everyone watches. In the middle of the dance floor, a tall, attractive brunette stands with one foot over the throat of a very scared looking older man, his hands up in a posture of surrender. When one of his bouncers tries to approach, another woman, identical to the first, pulls a Chinese dagger and steps in front of her sister, her pretty face tight and defensive. 

Derek makes his way to the center of the commotion, the twin with the dagger turning towards him as he moves closer. 

“What is all this?” he asks, his voice at a menacing pitch. The twin still standing over the man, a sharp heel placed directly over his jugular, barks out a laugh and flashes a grin over her sister’s shoulder. Her eyes glint wickedly. “We found this man on his way out the door with a girl he had drugged. She could barely stand and was begging to find her friend. So when he didn’t stop, we decided to do it for him. He put up a bit of a fight.”

Derek’s eyes find Scott in the crowd around them, a small girl cradled in his arms and unsteady on her feet. “She’s definitely been drugged, Derek.” He calls out, his voice grim as he focuses on keeping the girl from crashing. 

“Take her to my office. Stay with her until I get there.” He orders, and watches Scott finally just lift the girl, the crowd parting for him easily. The twins are still in place, and Derek moves closer still to try and get a better look at their culprit. 

“They can’t do this! I didn’t drug that girl! I found her like that! I was taking her-“ His words stop as the heel presses tighter into his throat, a small bead of blood dripping down his neck. “Please don’t call the police!” he finally strangles out, his eyes so wide and scared it’s comical. 

“Allison, it’s okay. Derek won’t let him get away with this. Go check on the girl, Scott will let you in.” Allison looks suspiciously between Derek and her sister before nodding curtly and sheathing her weapon, her gait smooth and dangerous as she makes her way in the direction of Derek’s office. 

“She doesn’t mind you wearing her face like that?” Derek’s voice is quiet, the room starting to move again as the action in the middle dies out, the music coming back on. She dimples beautifully before answering, pulling the stunned man to his feet and shoving him towards the back of the club. “Who, Allison? Oh no, we go way back. She’s my best girl, my partner in crime, the platonic Bonnie to my Clyde.” The man stumbles through the door behind the bar when Stiles pushes him, falling flat on his face in the dimly lit room. Back here, you can barely hear the music from the club and Derek is sure to lock the door behind them. 

“She’s also a Hunter, Stiles. Why would you bring a hunter to my club?” This makes Stiles scoff as he rolls the man over and sits on his chest, his knees over the man’s arms to keep him in place as Allison’s hands settle on his face. “What’s going on? Please let me go!? I won’t do it again, I swear!” He begins to struggle and Derek can’t help but be amused as a seemingly skinny, light girl easily keeps the full grown man pinned, not even shaking with his bucking. 

“She used to be a Hunter. Past tense. She found their ways a little too black and white, if you know what I mean. Kill this, not that. Fight for good, do no evil. Do not cross this line in the sand. Blah, blah, blah. Shhhhh.” The last part is for the man on the ground, his voice dying out at Stiles’ command. Derek can see the light starting to flow into the Incubus’ fingertips, the drain as slow and painful as he wants it to be. Derek had never intended to call the cops with such an easy soul for his Incubus to steal. 

In the end, Stiles chooses not to drag it out. The man’s life force sucks easily out of his lips and the Allison skin throws her head back as the last of it flows into her, a sharp moan on her own mouth as he dies. Derek watches entranced, never having seen the Incubus in full action. He wants to taste it, chase the moment down her throat with his tongue and he has to look away, his pants suddenly a little too tight. He turns away, intending to go check on the girl who had been drugged. 

Stiles is laughing softly behind him, a little drunk from the soul. And then there are arms around his waist, hands with sharp red nails trying to slide down the front of his jeans. He grabs them gently before they can get too far, turning back around to meet the problem head on. 

“No, Derek? She’s beautiful though, isn’t she? Do you like brown eyes?” Her eyelashes are long and thick over brown eyes so dark they’re almost black, especially in this light. Derek scowls and pushes the Incubus back enough they’re no longer touching.

“Hate ‘em.” He says, before turning and walking back into the club. 

***

It was Scott’s idea. Derek had only agreed because admittedly, he was tired and it had been a long time since any of his demons had had a night off. How everyone had ended up crowded into his large backyard, tons of people he didn’t know diving and swimming around in his pool, he couldn’t quite recall. He stands on his balcony, swirling his drink around in his glass, enjoying the warm night air. He spots the guilty Hellhoud at the edge of the pool, the ex-Hunter Allison, or at least he hopes is actually Allison, slotted between his legs as they laugh at something together, the party around them unimportant. 

That leads his thoughts to Stiles, and he wonders what skin the Incubus has donned for the night, if he’s even there yet. His eyes travel over the crowd lazily, looking for some sort of tell that will give the demon up, like uncontrollable twitching or obnoxious hand gesturing. There’s a short, black-haired girl who gives him pause, her expression mischievous as she talks excitedly to one of the bouncers from his club, but he decides she’s a little too composed, her energy high and vibrant but not enough. 

“See anything you like?” He doesn’t bother to turn around, knowing it’s his sister Laura come to check in. 

“An Angel at a gathering of Hell's finest, now there’s something you don’t see every day.” He smiles fondly at her as she comes to rest against the railing next to him, her wings tucking some where along her back to the point of disappearing. “You didn’t answer my question, little brother.” She grabs his free hand and squeezes it for a moment before she’s stealing his glass and downing the rest of his drink. He tsks at her, absently snapping his fingers to refill it before she hands it back. 

“Why? Are you going to cart them away before I can get my hands on them, save them from their foolish ways?” Laura’s laugh is beautiful, and it should make him uncomfortable with its divinity, but he finds himself wishing he could hear it more often. There are small moments when he regrets his decision to fall, regrets not being able to constantly be with his family anymore but he never made much of an Angel anyway. He had always been drawn to humans and their sins, his morality good but never good enough. No, he made a much better demon, the justice he had always wanted to serve as an Angel much easier to come by on the darker side of the line. 

“Not at all, sweetheart, not at all. We still want you to be happy, you know. That’s all. Forever is a long time to spend alone, even the devil knows that, Derek.” The party below them gets louder for a moment, everyone cheering the bouncer Boyd on as he makes a cannon ball into the deep end of the pool, the splash drenching everyone in the immediate area. Erica follows closely behind him, both surfacing a few seconds later, Boyd lifting her out of the water and throwing her back in. A small smile curves his lips as he watches, the warm line of his sister gone as quickly as it had appeared in a hush of feathers. When he looks back, she’s left a knitted sweater in one of the balcony chairs, a single white quill he knows to be one of his mother’s placed atop it. 

“Derek!” There’s a yell and then something hurtling towards him as he turns back around, drenching him completely as it hits him square in the chest. He looks for the voice and finds the mischievous girl he had noticed before waving at him with a grin, another water balloon tucked under her arm. His initial instinct had been right after all, his recognition of the smirk on her face making something warm curl in his stomach. He hops the balcony in one smooth jump, landing on his feet light as a cat. Stiles as the girl squeals and turns on her heel, recognizing a minute too late she’s made a terrible mistake. Derek stalks after her, his pace that of every horror movie monster who knows it doesn’t matter how fast the victim runs. 

***

He’s dead to the world the first time he feels it. It starts small, just a tug some where at the edge of his mind, gone as quickly as it had come. The second time is more like a shove and he startles awake, his brain not quite settling on what pulled him into sudden consciousness. The third time is like an ice pick directly to his temple, and he jumps out of bed gasping as it finally begins to make sense, the pieces falling into place. 

He dresses quickly, doesn’t bother to grab his jacket or his keys as he races down the stairs of his apartment building, vainly wishing he still had wings. The bar is just down the street, and even though he could snap and be there that much quicker he doesn’t want to waste the energy. Also, he needs the minute it will take him to run to figure this out. 

He had been warned only a month before that there was band of hunters on the loose, taking out demon holdings one member at a time. Derek hadn’t thought too much of it, his small but efficient pack having stood unchallenged many times before. As demonic holdings went, his claim was practically inherent, the town having belonged to his human family for generations before it fell prey to it’s darker undercurrents. It had welcomed him and his pack with open arms; a beacon for all that is just this line of evil and sin. But as he runs, he knows he’d been wrong not to worry. He can feel the attempts on one of his contracts to sever their tie, the hunters smart enough to know you start at the bottom and work your way up. 

As he slides into the alley that would allow entrance to the back of the club, he can hear someone laughing from inside. He wastes little time with the door, ripping it off its hinge with ease. The room is weakly lit, a group gathered around a figure in the middle of the floor. Shocked eyes turn on him as he enters, guns and crossbows coming up to focus on him. He puts his hands up in a placating gesture, trying to formulate the quickest way to end this. 

An older man steps out and towards him, his eyes flashing with barely contained rage. “What trick is this, Derek?” 

Derek’s eyebrows shoot up in confusion until the figure in the center of the group speaks up, his voice eerily familiar despite the pained wheeze.

“No trick, Gerard. Just a scared Incubus trying to protect his Alpha. He’s just borrowing my face, trying to trick you into thinking you’ve got the wrong guy. Let him go and I won’t drag out your death longer than necessary. Really, it will be pleasant in comparison to most of the things I’ve already dreamed up trapped in this chair.” 

Derek sees him then, tied to a chair in the middle of a devil’s trap, his own face staring back at him with a hard scowl. Gerard looks between them warily, obviously not taking the confined demon at his word. 

“Show me your face, Incubus. You’re real one or else I end this right now and your boss gets a one way ticket back to Hell without any benefits this time.” The old man is signaling something to one of the hunters around him, a bare twitch that gives Derek only a second to react before a vial of holy water is smashing into his and Stiles’ face. In the chair, Stiles’ screams in pain, his eyes blacking out and Derek’s skin slipping from his control. 

Derek barely registers that he’s moving until he has the closest hunter’s heart in his hand, his fury at hearing Stiles hurt sending him into a blackout of rage. He moves through them with supernatural speed, their weapons firing seconds too late as he shreds through them with his bare hands. He’s almost to Gerard when a dagger finds his side and he goes down hard, an angry howl ripped from his throat as he scrambles inside the devil’s trap in a last attempt to protect his Incubus. 

Gerard’s laugh is twisted as he pulls up the crossbow and sights Derek into his crosshairs, a smile so wicked it would have looked inhuman if he hadn’t been facing down one of Hell’s own demons. His finger is pulling the trigger and Derek can feel the heat of flames licking at his skin when he hears another arrow being pulled and released in the distance. Derek watches as a bright red stain begins to bloom on the old man’s chest, his eyes shining with a slow confusion as his heart stops beating. He falls just a few inches from Derek’s feet, his blood making the trap burn brightly beneath the demons.

Allison is shouldering her bow when she finally steps forward enough for Derek to see her, her face a tight mask of disdain and disgust. Scott is only a few steps behind, his own face proud as they reach the edge of the trap and he bends to drag the body out of his girlfriend’s way. She easily breaks the trap with the toe of her boot and Derek feels air rush back into his lungs, the dagger in his side a thorn of pain before he withdraws it. 

“Stiles?” Allison’s voice is soft and focused some where behind him and he suddenly remembers what had sent him into such a rage in the first place. Derek turns to find a man barely out of his teens, his unconscious face drawn in pain sending another dose of wrath boiling through Derek’s veins. Allison is scrabbling at the ties on his wrists and Derek feels himself start to growl.

“Don’t touch him.” Allison rushes back and away and he moves quickly, the ropes crumbling under his touch. He drags Stiles out of the chair and into his lap on the floor, cradling the long limbed man to his chest as he strokes the sweaty hair off his forehead. He whispers a calling into Stiles ear and watches the soul slam back into his body, beautifully large amber eyes going wide before a familiar inky black spills into them. A few minutes later, Derek is still contentedly clutching and rocking him before a throat clearing gets his attention. 

“You know, I had total control of that situation. I saved your ass, just so we’re clear. Not the other way around.” Derek hides his grin in Stiles’ hair, his deep laugh rumbling his chest despite his effort to contain it. 

“Wow, dude, I had no idea you were this clingy. Are you always this cuddly? Because I’m not complaining, really, I’m not, but I’m going to need a few more minutes before I can slip into something more comfortable and appeal-“

“No.”

“No? What do you mean ‘no’? C’mon, Derek, please just tell me what you like, I’m so tired of this. I just saved your ass! I want you, okay? No joking, no ridiculous flirting, I want you so bad I can taste it. Please, I can look like anyone you want, you just have to tell-“

“This. I want you to look like this.” Derek watches as Stiles mouth drops open in surprise, his big doe eyes blinking owlishly as he tries to comprehend what’s been said and Derek’s heart clenches at the sight of such familiar expressions finally on the correct face. He drinks in the pale skin slightly flushed from exertion, the constellation of moles mapping down Stiles’ neck and into his shirt, the long fingers clenched in anxiety at his waist and feels a wolfish grin twist his mouth. 

“I want you to look like you, Stiles, not some borrowed face that doesn’t ever fit you right. Just you. Like this. God, your nose is cute,” he huffs.

Stiles makes a noise similar to a squeak and covers the bottom half of his face with his hands, the flush on his cheeks trailing down his neck. His eyes are glaring as he moves to scramble away from Derek, a wild flailing that finally looks natural and leaves Derek chuckling fondly as he lets him go. 

Scott and Allison somewhere in the background for all of this are laughing too, and Stiles turns his glare on them. 

“It’s not cute! It’s not button-y! It’s a man’s nose! The kind only the burliest of manly men have!” 

Derek is still laughing when he pulls himself to his feet, the carnage around him only now creeping back into his senses. “Scott, go get Erica and Boyd. You’re going to need them to help you clean this up. The bar can stay closed for the night. Maybe two. It won’t hurt us.” Scott groans as he makes his way towards the front of the club, gingerly picking his way through the mess of limbs and weapons.

“Allison, I am in your debt. My apologies for not trusting you sooner. I extend my protection and offer you a place to stay for as long as you want it. My home is yours.” Allison smiles in response, a small bow before she turns to follow Scott makes Derek smile in return. His eyes finally settle on Stiles, the Incubus still covering some of his face as he looks towards the ground, apprehension coming off of him in waves.

“Stiles, come here.” Derek’s voice is soft yet Stiles looks up as if he’s startled. He hesitates for a moment before he backtracks towards the demon, his arms crossing defensively over his chest as he stops just a few feet in front of him. 

“I said come here.” This time, Derek holds out his own arms and Stiles leaps at him, whatever hesitation he had felt a few seconds earlier thrown to the wind. Derek catches him and buries his face in the Incubus’ neck, a feeling of contentment washing through him. 

“Are you sure, Derek? There’s a reason I gave up this face, a very good rea-“

“I’m sure, Stiles. This face, your face, is the most beautiful face I have ever seen. And I was once an Angel.”

“Oh my god, you are such a sap. A clingy, sappy demon who I needed in my life and bed like yesterday. And a liar! Liar, liar, pants on fucking fire! You said you hated brown eyes, and I don’t know if you noticed but-“

Derek shuts him up with a kiss. He keeps kissing him as he carries him out into the main part of the bar, past the groans and catcalls of his other demons, where he sits them down on his “throne” and doesn’t let go the rest of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> come see me on [tumblr.](http://www.witchspark.tumblr.com)


End file.
